PostIt Notes
by november21
Summary: BP Spoilers. One-Shot. Lissa apologizes to Christian in a manner that surprises even him. Rated for mild profanity.


**Disclaimer: All recognizble names belong to their respective owners. Likewise, the author of this FanFictions does not claim any rights to Richelle Mead's Vampire Academy series.**

There was a trail of Post-It notes. They were all in a soft yellow. A soft, sweet, gentle yellow. It was Her favorite color. The Her he'd been avoiding for the past few weeks. Avoiding, not ignoring. He could never ignore Her. That's why he avoided Her.

Life had always been a mess for him. He thought She was the exception. He thought She would be there for him, and for once because he was him. Aunt Tasha cared, certainly, but she had to. She was bound by familial ties. Not like Her. Who didn't see his dead father's eyes in his face. Rather She had seen the part of him that was hidden behind the blue eyes.

Maybe it was the healing spirit within Her. If every feeling he'd ever felt for Her had been caused by compulsion, he didn't care. He'd met a part of Her he liked. It just turned out that too large a part of Her wasn't like that. He would survive. He had to move on from Her. She'd built him up, and hopefully some part of Her realized that it would be too cruel to now tear him down. He'd continue climbing his ladder. He just wouldn't hear the soft giggle at the top, see the blond hair flashing before She continued into the chapel.

He was strong. He had lost love before. He repeated it over and over to himself. His classes, while still monotonous, were now the savior of his day, rather than the dread, though it would have been better if She weren't in them. He had to think of something else.

Rose was a good friend, but she was too interlocked with Her. Adrian was too crazy, and he also reminded Christian of Her, what with the Spirit. If only Adrian had been the one She had kissed. He knew Adrian would make some joke of it, which all of them would laugh at, and then everything would be alright again. Christian had realized Adrian and Her were really only friends, nearly siblings. And besides, if Adrian were actually interested, Christian could have burned him easily. Aaron had actually been with Her and She had cared romantically for him. Unlike Adrian he was The Perfectly Acceptable Boy, not drunk. And Christian didn't know where Aaron was.

This was cruel punishment. Should Christian maybe have actually paid attention to the sermons while in church? And now there was this note. Soft smelling, like a gardenia, sweet. Would She finally apologize for Everything? Not just the kiss. Not just the lies. And would She mean it? Would She apologize for locking him out?

Because that's what She did. After She lost Rose, it was like She was reluctant to talk to him. Maybe She was afraid She would lose him too? But She was smarter than that, or at least She used to be before Avery. Was it all Avery's fault?

Better yet, was it all his fault? Could he have tried harder to convince Her to confide in him? Should he have reminded Her more often that Avery wasn't Rose, could never be Rose? Should he have left Her, or was there something else that he could have done? But then maybe Rose wouldn't have come back. Did She still love him like Rose claimed? He doubted it.

The note wouldn't be the hoped-for apology. It would be Her declaration that She was over him, the worthless son of two willing Strigoi. Never a declaration of love, especially after he left Her. He could have done something. He convinced himself he should have done something, if only to tell Her that unless She stopped partying he would leave Her. That would have worked, wouldn't it? It would, but he let emotions cloud his mind. Why did he lose his mind when he needed it most? Why was he letting himself lose his mind right now?

"Just pick up the damn note!" his mind had finally reprimanded him. The question now was if his heart would let him. He put down the books he had been clutching in his now snow- white hands. He lifted his backpack above his head and threw it in the corner. One of the advantages of his parents' status was Christian's lack of a roommate. No boy would want to live with a loon who might choose his victim for the awakening at any minute.

In fact, his first forced roommate had written an essay to warn everyone what Christian would do following the approaching act of homicide, and it wasn't hard to guess who the victim would be, according to the roommate. Christian would wait until just before classes began, then attack his victim, who even dying would be defiant, as he left the closet of their room. Christian would don a hat, keep his eyes downcast, and walk along the abandoned halls only he knew of. He would leave the campus, quenching his new thirst with the lone guardian waiting for the shift change. He would run, but every Moroi Royal family would suffer Christian's vengeance as decades passed until finally Guardian Janine Hathaway would take him down all alone. Ralf's one academic strength had always been his English compositions. For months after, whenever Christian walked too closely by them, all of the students on campus had quivered. The only ones who didn't avoid him were the Dragomirs, and Rose. And now he was scared of Her. How pathetic.

With trembling hands, Christian reached down and picked up the note. Proud of his accomplishment, he smirked, something which felt unfamiliar already. Upon looking at Her elegant writing, though, his smugness disintegrated.

"_When I turned four, I received my first Barbie Doll. I named her Melinda, but I made sure to call her Mel. I knew how tiresome it is to introduce yourself by a three syllable name. André didn't. Melinda died of decapitation two years later, after André and his friends led their G.I. Joes to believe she was Strigoi. She put up a spectacular fight though._" He chuckled. They'd talked about a lot of stuff in their past, but never about playthings. He wondered why André would have hated the Barbie doll so much. Lissa had always acted as though he were the best brother in the world.

And then he realized, he'd thought her name and it hadn't actually hurt that much. In fact, he loved hearing it, if only in his head. He wondered what it would be like to say it out loud. And he tentatively realized she might be in his room.

"Lissa? Are you here?" When he didn't receive a response, he felt plain stupid. Still, it couldn't hurt to look. He headed over his desk to place the Sticky-Note in one of the drawers. While he was moving his copy of "The Lord of the Flies," he found yet another note. So this was her ploy. And it was enjoyable. Lissa didn't show that side of her nearly enough. Not the sweet and innocent one, but the creative and engaging side.

Or perhaps she showed it too much. Christian couldn't decide. But he did decide that during this little game he wouldn't let himself get too hopeful. He'd keep his mind about him. It was the smart thing to do when dealing with the opposite gender, especially one you would face Strigoi for. Getting a control of his breathing, he read the next note. "_When I was 11, I received my first 'D' on an assignment. My English teacher was disappointed on my book report for Lord of the Flies for numerous reasons. She suggested that I ought to have read something less strong, like Harry Potter. She was also disappointed at my report, in which the only characters I criticized were the soldiers for not getting there soon enough. She said to view monsters (like Strigoi) as if they had feelings and were not responsible for their actions was foolish and seriously put into doubt whether I was as smart as she'd previously believed. She supposedly seriously hoped that in the future I should realize the truth of the matter: Monsters are now monsters, no matter what they were before. I was so confused. Those had been real people with families and friends at some point. It didn't make sense. Wouldn't seeing them as bad people, hurt those relatives who were very likely still good people? Rose told me her opinion and I told her mine. We bounced ideas off of each other all night long. It was the first time we talked about anything more important than boys. I realized she wanted to be my guardian when I was older, and I was more flattered by that than anything I'd heard yet. It stayed that way until you called me beautiful._"

Lissa wasn't playing fair. And Christian was shocked he hadn't known about this. He'd heard a reference to it the one time he ever saw Lissa fail an assignment. It was partially his fault, as he'd kept her pretty entertained the day before. Whoopsies. He needed to stop thinking about her, and soon. This was too much for one night. He placed the book down, and recited a rare non-public prayer, asking to gain some insight on whether to take back the love of his life or not. He then proceeded to wipe off the sweat that was gathering on his face. He seriously needed to request that his dorm room's AC be fixed. He might be a fire user, but it was very irksome to be in a room that hot.

While setting a dry towel on the floor, he found another note. In a bathroom? Geez, Liss. At least show some respect for privacy. Oh, who was he kidding? He was desperate to read her handwriting, to imagine her smiling as she recalled whatever it was the note would recount.

"_The first time I ever took a shower, as opposed to a bubble bath, was following the accident. My parents had actually paid the school to make sure that a bathtub was available for all students. I had always thought that showers were too similar to a thunderstorm, striking hard bolts of water against my skin. The next time I used it was the night Rose supposedly beat Him up. I felt so guilty for doing it, and then letting my friend take the blame. The year of our escape, I always took showers. I viewed it as a way to keep myself completely aware of my surroundings. And then after Viktor, and after Natalie, and after Mason, and after the attack, and after Rose, and after that kiss, each of those times, including when you said good-bye, I took a shower. I know it didn't seem like I cared, but I did."_

That night, he found many, many notes, hidden amongst the vast majority of his belongings: his mini refrigerator, as her favorite snack was Swiss cheese dipped in tomato sauce with pepperoni on top, a Sprite- Kool-Aid mix to the side; his nightstand, as she once heard her cat creeping around the house, and that with a number of other strange happenings led her to hide under a small table in her parents' bedroom for fear of a burglar; the carpet in his bedroom, as her brother accidentally cut himself, and his blood got on the carpet, but never came out; his pillows, as she had a pillow with Barney on it from age 2 to age 12; and a collectible Star Wars plate, since in her biggest fight with her brother, she threw a plate that just narrowly missed removing his ear. The plate happened to be antique that had been in the Dragomir family inheritance for nearly 322 years. All the notes were either funny or sad and he was shocked to learn so much about her now, of all times. He thought he knew every major point of her life, and he very well might have. But the problem was he didn't know the minor ones.

He was wrong. He was missing one major one. The final note he found on his vanity mirror, and if not for the note's contents, he may indeed have laughed at the reminder of the first time she saw his room. She had come in, and teased that she could never possibly compete with the beauty queen who he had off to the side. When she turned to leave, he grabbed her arm and kissed her. Following that action, he said the most cheesy thing he'd ever said, "There's no way in Hell you're leaving after a kiss like that, right?" And her only response had been a kiss.

Now her response was heartbreaking. _"Following my family's death, I made no secret of my desire to be the 'Perfect Princess.' My school work was better than ever, and my social status rose dramatically. Admittedly, I would still never be very athletic, but why would I need to be? Life was perfect, or so I let on. I suppose you saw through it, and I know Rose saw through it. Natalie might have seen through it. I don't know. I didn't know I was transparent to so many others. I have forced myself to forget one such girl for so long, only remembering her on more desperate occasions. I thought I was living up to the Dragomir standard, despite my fear at the animals invading my room. She proved me wrong. I was walking back to my dorm through way of the courtyard, and when she approached me, upon turning I felt the sensation of a sting across my cheek. She had slapped me. She told me in no uncertain terms that I was a failure, a smear on the Dragomir tapestry. I was a faker, a liar. Just another royal too caught up in their own life to care about others. I wanted to cry, do something. She continued, bitterly, each of her words cutting deeper into me than I ever achieved while cutting myself. Because it's one thing to think ill of yourself, when you can just write it off as self evaluation that's too harsh. It's altogether another matter to have a stranger you've never spoken to insult you. She made sure that I knew I would never live up to Andre. It hurt, a lot. I made a promise to myself that night, one that I broke when Rose was rumored to be a blood whore, one I broke when I became Avery's drinking partner, her 'puppet.' I'm sorry I failed my family, I'm sorry I failed Rose, I'm sorry I failed myself, but most of all, I'm sorry I failed you. I'm sorry I made you feel so distanced, and so unimportant. The thing is, I'm so desperate to live up to my family that I let so few people in. I lost my family, and I thought I had lost Rose. I felt like, no matter what I did, I'd be losing you soon, too. I couldn't stand to think about it, so by my forgetting it, I made it more likely to happen. I know it's a piss-poor excuse. But it's the only one I have to give. I want to be a good person, but sometimes I think it would be easier to be a good person if I didn't ever feel emotions. Easier to distance myself. Yet you reached into my heart and soul in a way that only Rose has ever done before, and that's something neither she nor I had control over. Please talk to me tomorrow night, at 10 at our place. If you're not there, I won't blame you, nor will I ever bother you again when not necessary. But know this: No matter what, you'll always be the first guy I have ever loved, and I hope you'll be the last."_

He hoped that as well. Imagining another guy with her hurt, and while reading the note he had felt every poison she experienced. He wanted to throw fire at whoever it was who had said that, and yet he knew that wasn't Lissa's goal. Her goal wasn't to pit him against her foe and make him pity her; her goal was to share with him how she really felt. And he had the feeling that if he went back, maybe it would stay this way. He couldn't be certain how it would turn out, only that he still cared about her. Still loved her.

He awoke at 7 the next evening, and would have rushed to have his breakfast so that he could head to the chapel two hours and twenty-three minutes early, if his dreams hadn't been visited that night. There, in all her angelic glory, was Lissa. She had at last learned to walk in dreams, and right then and there was beaming to see that he was smiling. It was the first authentically happy smile on his face for the past 39 days. She had counted. The smile grew wider as they talked throughout the night, and when the sun rose in Lissa's imaginary world, they just lay there, picking up the conversation that had so disgusted Rose in the library four months ago. Now it was about their wedding, and how it would be in this chapel, the reception inside the recesses of everyone's sleep. That way there would be no hangovers from all the drinks they would force on everybody. And as they drifted off further into sleep in this land of the sleeping, Lissa said "I'm sorry."

Christian rolled over and smirked. "I love you." He closed his eyes and sighed in contentment when he heard her echo "I love you too." Their arms were tightly wrapped around each other, they were completely at bliss.

In her own dorm room, Rose Hathaway grinned. "Finally."

**AN: This was my first FanFiction and I would greatly appreciate any feedback, good or bad, to help me improve as a writer.**


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